Sticky Fingers
by wrestlefan4
Summary: Alright ya morons, where is it!" John bellowed. His hat had been stolen. The straight-edge culprit ran his finger along the "Stetson" label. He had admired that hat and the man who wore it for a long time.For Wall-Street Cowboy aka LT.JBL/CM Just try it!


_For Wall-Street Cowboy queen of the JBL revolution lol. :) I have been converted!_

Sticky Fingers

"Where is it?" John grumbled under his breath as he flung things here and there, gaining glares and aggravated sighs from other superstars. His searching hands tossed gape-mouthed gym bags aside and as his temper rose he started to shove more than just belongings and locker doors—but actual people. "All right you buncha morons, who has it!" John bellowed causing half the men in the locker room to cringe. His caramel eyes burned with the fire of annoyance.

"What are you looking for?" Shawn asked pressing his straw hat onto his damp hair.

"I know you didn't do nothin' with it. You're not that stupid Michaels." JBL scanned the room looking for the guilty party from under his furrowed brow, his lips pulled down in a frown. Shawn shrugged, shouldered his bag, and left the drama behind.

Phil swallowed hard as he leaned into his locker, both hands guarding something inside the shadows of it. He hadn't really meant to keep it as long as he had. John had left it on the bench to go shower and Phil just couldn't help admire it. The moment John disappeared with nothing but a towel around his waist—which Phil didn't mind watching at all—he inched towards the treasured object sitting atop the folded clothes on the bench. At first he just blinked at it as though it was some sort of hallucination. At last he reached his tattooed fingers out and touched it which brought an enormous, stupid grin to his face, just like the victory grin of the kid who successfully sneaks a cookie when his mom isn't looking.

From there he hand turned it in his hands taking it in from every possible angle. He had never really seen it this close before but always admired it along with the man who wore it. He turned it over and traced the smooth silk lining and the label that read "Stetson". That's when he had been snapped out of his daydreams by the loud-mouth owner of the hat in his hands. He had ducked his hands along with the object he held into his locker hoping to hide the evidence. He closed his eyes and prayed for the best…but another part of him secretly hoped to be caught. He imagined John's big hands on his shoulders, spinning him around roughly and pushing him against the cold lockers, finding that hat in his hands and locking his gaze with the chocolate eyes of the straight-edged culprit.

"Runnels? DiBiase? Orton?" John questioned as he watched each of those young men shake their heads silently, not daring to say a word in response. The only sound in the room was the click of John's cowboy boots as he stepped deliberately and slowly past each man left in the locker room stopping briefly to read each expression for any traces of guilt. After a nervous superstar passed the Texan's interrogation he gathered his things and left, it seemed everyone wanted to get out as quickly as possible to avoid the pending explosion. More names were called as John ran his eyes over them like a harsh officer inspecting his cadets and ready to drag each and every one of them into solitary confinement should there be one errant ball of lint on their uniform.

It came down to two suspects left in the draining room and when the door clicked shut behind Mike Mizanin there was only one left. The young man seemed to John like an ostrich, his head buried in a locker rather than the sand. In fact if the locker was big enough he was almost sure the young man would crawl into it and lock him self in. As it was the only thing John could see was his hind end poking out still clad in his ring gear, yellow and black trunks with his signature starry design.

"Punk?"

Of all the people that would steal his hat, he hadn't expected Phil to be the one with sticky fingers. John crossed his arms over his chest, his expression softening a bit with curiosity. Phil always played nice with others and he certainly wasn't one to ruffle too many feathers especially with the older guys in the company. He was generally a respectful kid. John would have even doubted that Phil had it now if he wasn't still hiding guiltily in the locker, not saying a word, not moving at all. Something was amiss.

"Y'wouldn't happen to see my cowboy hat around would ya?"

Phil bit his lip and cringed when John moved the locker door aside opening it wide to reveal what John was looking for clutched in "Drug Free" fingers. Phil brought it out of the shadows and turned towards John but kept his head bowed, his eyes darted here and there, not wanting to connect with the Texan's. He scraped his teeth against his lip ring nervously, an action that momentarily distracted John from just plucking the white Stetson away from the young man.

"I…I was just…" Phil stammered. He paused running his fingers over the brim of the hat lovingly, even respectfully. He managed to look up at John and when his eyes met the Texan's strong, commanding gaze his knees felt weak and his face burned rosy with embarrassment. John at least didn't seem as irate as Phil had imagined. His glare was still heated yet the younger man was not really scared for his well-being, he was just nervous and awkward because he had never had the chance or the balls to get this close to the man he had been crushing on for so long. "I was just admiring you." John's brows arched upwards at the bridge of his nose in confusion and Phil's grew wide and shocked when his brain processed the mistake his tongue had made. "I mean it, I was just admiring it—the hat." Phil held the Stetson out to John.

"You can look without touchin' and gettin' your grubby hands all over it." John snatched the hat back and fixed it on his head. He took a step forward looming over the boy and making him remember not to do such brainless things in the future.

"I didn't mean anything, I just…like you!" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and there was a loud 'smack' as the raven haired man brought palm to forehead. "God." He groaned more embarrassed than ever.

John stopped in total shock. His mouth fell ajar and Phil had to clap his hand over his lips to keep from giggling at just the sheer look of surprise on John's face.

"You…you what?"

_Now you've done it Phil, way to go._ He thought to himself as he watched John shake his head in disbelief.

"I…" He dropped his eyes again feeling the familiar hotness of his cheeks rise once more. His other anxious habit came back, teeth raking against metal. Phil gasped when John clutched his shoulders and demanded in a ragged voice:

"Will you stop that!"

"Stop what?" Phil blinked back trying to stay focused as John's fingertips gripped his shoulders pressing just hard enough to be painful and pleasurable. _Stop thinking that way Phil. _He squeezed his eyes shut tight and bit his lip ring again. The action sent a tingle through Johns' body and he didn't even realize that his grip on Phil's shoulders had tightened. His attention was on those pink, pierced, lips and he wanted to know what they would feel like against his, what would they taste like, how would they respond—and it was not the first time he had entertained such thoughts.

"John?" Phil could sense John close to him. His breathing was becoming heavy as he felt Johns' fingers tip his chin upwards, the puff of breath warm against his face as his lips drew closer, the smell of shampoo and tobacco and expensive cologne mingling, the brush of stiff denim jeans against his skin.

Their lips met, Phil's back pressed against the locker and when the lock jammed into his spine he moaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Johns' waist urging him closer, if it was possible to be any closer.

Tongues prodded lips apart and found each other in the wet darkness. Breathing became harder and harder as mouths became less reluctant to separate and tongues went deeper. Phil's head started to feel light and it got even dizzier when he thought he felt the nudge of something hard. He had to break the kiss and broke it hard, forgetting he was smashed against the lockers, the back of his head cracked into the metal but the pain was beautiful. He could form nothing to say as John looked down on him with sweat glistening at his hairline, one stray bead running seductively down the side of his face, and his eyes clouded with unabashed lust. He was only glad Johns' strong arms were holding him up because he knew if it were up to his own legs to do the job he'd be on the floor in a second. He thought maybe he should say something, he wondered if John was waiting to be stopped or spurred on, but he couldn't find his voice or even the thought process to make a word. _This must be how it feels to be high._

"Are…you okay darlin'?" John asked between his panting. He ran his hand across his forehead wiping the glistening heat away.

"I don't even know." Phil croaked, amazed to hear his own voice answering back.

"Me either."

"Wha-what do we do?" Phil asked lacing his hands behind John's neck. There was a pause between the two of them that seemed to last for hours. "Are you still mad at me about your hat?" This time Phil smirked knowingly when he grinded his teeth against his lip ring.

"I can't really hold it against you." John said smiling sheepishly at the younger man. "I took your straight-edge t-shirt one night. It's out in my limo."

"What?"

"I think we're doin' too much talkin' here."

"But you said--"

"Do you wanna talk…or do you want to shut up?" John leered and pressed a kiss to Phil's lips.

"I'll just shut up." Phil grinned as his hands found Johns' belt buckle. "Besides, it's going to be hard to talk with my mouth full."

_Review please!! :D_


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